


Narcoleptic

by ItsTheFroggyG



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Narcolepsy, Narcoleptic Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22386457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsTheFroggyG/pseuds/ItsTheFroggyG
Summary: It would probably go away.It didn’t go away.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Narcoleptic

**Author's Note:**

> just so you know i dont know what im doing. i did some research on narcolepsy and tried to portray it as accurately as i could. please excuse minor mistakes but if there is something drastically wrong or even offensive please let me know so i can try to fix it!

It had started when he was in elementary school. Louie had noticed it, but wasn’t concerned. A little sleepiness never hurt anybody, even if it seemed to persist for weeks on end. He had brought it up to Donald once while he was cooking dinner, who had momentarily held a look of concern over the youngest triplet. The look sent his way sparked worry in Louie’s chest. He was young, but he wasn’t stupid. He had seen the way Donald would stress out over bills coming in the mail. About losing his job. About the wellbeing of his nephews.

“You’re not sick, are you?” Donald asked, garbled voice clearly worried. His uncle leaned down and gripped Louie’s chin, turning Louie’s head to face him. “Say ‘ah’.”

“Uncle Donald, I’m not sick!” Louie said, prying himself out of his uncle’s grasp. Actually, he wasn’t really sure of that. But he knew that being sick required medicine and for Uncle Donald to potentially have to take time off work to take care of him, neither of which they could afford. “I’m just tired is all.”

Donald let his arms hang at his sides. “Oh.” he said, simply. One hand planted itself on his hip and the other came to his chin in an expression of contemplation. “Well… maybe an earlier curfew is in order.” He smiled then, the hand on his chin resting on his other hip. “You are growing boys, after all.”

Louie remembered a time where he would protest an earlier bedtime, but he strangely wasn’t opposed to it now. He was secretly grateful for Donald’s decision, but knew that showing it would make Donald suspicious that either he was planning some mischief or that something was actually wrong with him. So, he slumped his shoulders, sighed, and let out a slightly defeated, “Okay, Uncle Donald.”

It hadn’t helped much, but Louie had lied to his uncle the next morning and acted energized and eager to play like his older brothers were. Like normal kids were. After all, it didn’t do any good to put further stress on his sole caretaker. All that mattered was that Donald was satisfied. It would probably go away.

It didn’t go away.

Over the course of the next few years there were instances where he had woken up in a daze, sitting on the couch with the TV still on, or his phone in his hand. And there were times where he had felt a sudden sense of intense drowsiness (much more intense than the constant fatigue that plagued him since early childhood) hit him, and he excused himself for a quick nap. These instances didn’t happen often enough for concern to register in Louie’s mind, or for his family to notice. He really didn’t care much. Sure, it was inconvenient, especially during class, but it really didn’t interfere with his life much.

Until when he was paralyzed as he was falling asleep.

It had nearly given him a heart attack the first time it happened. He was in bed and falling asleep when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. It was a man, or more specifically, a shadowy figure in the shape of a man looming in the corner of his and his brothers’ shared room. 

He’d tried to sit up, but found that he was immobile. Louie then tried to open his mouth to call for Huey or Dewey, but he couldn’t move his face. It seemed the only motions he was capable of were moving his eyes and breathing.

The figure, meanwhile, remained still. Louie’s fears of him being a burglar were assuaged, as he reasoned that any good burglar would grab the goods (whatever little the Duck family had, anyway) and get out as quickly as possible. The youngest triplet stared on in an uneasy mix of confusion, fear, and curiosity at the strange figure. As he looked closer, he realized that the figure didn’t even seem to breathe. Very strange indeed. A ghost, or demon maybe? But where would it have come from? Why haunt their houseboat -- or any houseboat for that matter?

Louie would have pondered the situation further until the figure’s head snapped in his direction, prompting the duckling to try to scream and scramble away, only to remember that he couldn’t. He opted for the next best thing he figured a 10 year old duck could do in this situation. Louie squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the apparition’s gaze.

He woke up to the familiar beeping of the alarm clock. Deep green eyes slipped open to see his bedroom, lit gently by the early sun shining through the gap in the curtains, with no trace of the strange figure. His hand automatically went to rub at his eyes before he could even realize that he could move his body again. He pulled his hand away from his face to inspect it, as if his paralysis would have left a mark. He had just finished stretching his entire body when Huey hopped down from the very top bunk and shut off the alarm clock.

Louie sighed wearily and Huey cast him a concerned look with his dark brown eyes. “Everything alright?” he asked, already making his way towards the youngest triplet’s bunk. “Are you sick?” Louie rolled his eyes at Huey playing the part of the responsible older sibling as he made his way to the bed Louie sat in. “I’m fine, Hue,” he mumbled tiredly. “Jus’ sleepy.”

Huey’s beak twisted in an expression that could only be described as a combination of worry, doubt, and mild exasperation. “Well, okay. Just try to wake up -- we’ve got school in an hour,” he said, turning towards the dresser against the far wall. Dewey shuffled his way down from the bunk just above Louie and stretched his arms high over his head. “Mornin’, Lou,” he said, clearly not completely awake yet, but still had the same energetic vibe he always had.

Louie was the last one still in bed, like always.

There was the familiar feeling of yearning to just curl up under the covers again and not emerge for a good week, but Louie knew that he needed to get up before he fell asleep again. He slid out of bed, webbed feet gently thudding on the carpet below. He had continued his day just as he would any other.

**Author's Note:**

> so i wasnt entirely sure how to end this so i just left it open ended. let me know your ideas for a continuation if you want!


End file.
